The Viper

by Monica McCarty

  Except he wasn’t.

  The guard stood behind Margaret as her cousin entered the room. “Are you finished?”

  Lachlan answered before she could. “Almost. Just a few more minutes.”

  Bella felt the ridiculous urge to laugh at his affected tone. Was that supposed to be priestly? He didn’t have a pious bone in his body. Even with the hood thrown back over his head, and his attempt to slouch and appear unthreatening, Lachlan MacRuairi looked every inch the battle-hard brute. A man of undeniable and daunting physicality. Perversely, it was one of the things that had attracted her.

  Margaret stopped in her tracks. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to interrupt. I can wait—”

  “Nay!” Bella said, not giving Lachlan the opportunity to agree. She didn’t want to be alone with him. “As the good father said, we are almost done.”

  Margaret looked back and forth between her and the “priest,” a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow. “All right.”

  Bella feared the guard had noticed her jumpiness. He gave her a hard look. She forced a serene expression and met his gaze unflinchingly until he closed the door.

  Lachlan tossed his hood back angrily. “What the hell do you think—”

  Margaret’s gasp stopped him.

  He cursed under his breath, shooting Bella a glare as if it were somehow her fault he’d forgotten, and then turned to her cousin. “Lady Margaret,” he whispered with a short nod. “I’m sorry to startle you. I’ve come to get your cousin out of here, only it seems she’s refusing to go.”

  Margaret turned her surprise to Bella. “What’s this, Bella? Of course you must go. If there is a chance to be free—”

  Bella shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Margaret looked to Lachlan as if she hadn’t spoken. Bella owed her cousin so much. For two years she’d stood by her side, braving the horrible castle every day to attend her, keep her company, and bring her what news she could of the outside world. But Margaret’s ready alliance with Lachlan—in the face of everything he’d done to them, or they thought he’d done to them—felt like a betrayal. “What is your plan?” Margaret asked him. “How can you sneak her out of the tower?”

  “Not the tower,” he said. “Tomorrow, on the road. You will be traveling with the countess?”

  Margaret nodded, and Bella didn’t bother to correct him about her title.

  “Good,” he said. “My men and I will attack your carriage, in the forest on the outskirts of town. I need you to be ready. Do not come out until it is over. I don’t want either of you to be harmed.”

  Bella told herself not to listen. It would only make it harder. But her heartbeat quickened.

  “What if something goes wrong?” Margaret said. “The constable will have us well guarded.”

  “You’ve nothing to fear, my lady. My men will take care of the soldiers. An entire army would not stand in our way.”

  Maybe not, but she would. “I’m not going,” Bella said resolutely.

  “But why not?” Margaret said, confused. “Do you wish to take the veil?”

  “The veil?” Lachlan asked.

  Margaret nodded. “They are forcing her to take the veil.”

  He swore.

  Bella shook her head, scared that if she tried to speak, the tears closing her throat would break free.

  “Then why not?” Margaret asked.

  Lachlan’s mouth thinned. “Your cousin doesn’t trust me.” He pulled Robert’s ring out of the leather bag around his waist. “I brought proof that the king sent me, but it will not persuade her.”

  That wasn’t the reason. But he was right: she didn’t trust him.

  Margaret turned the ring between her fingers and looked over to Bella. “This is the king’s ring, cousin. Surely you remember it? What other reason could Lachlan have to be here? Surely it is worth the chance? You might not get another.”

  Bella’s firmly set chin started to tremble. God, didn’t she think she knew that? No force of will could keep the tears from misting her eyes. She could fight one of them, but not two. She fell to the chair, her legs suddenly too weak. “I can’t,” she said hoarsely.

  Sensing her distress, Margaret rushed to her side. Taking her hand, she fell to her knees. “What is it?”

  “Joan,” she said softly, tears sliding down her cheeks. “They’ll hurt Joan.”

  Briefly, she explained Simon’s threats against her daughter and the enticement of contact if she agreed to take the veil.

  She tried to ignore Lachlan, but she could feel his eyes on her. “Bastards,” he muttered angrily.

  She glanced up at him. Surprised by the sympathy in his gaze, she nodded. “Aye.”

  Margaret squeezed her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Bella shrugged. “There was nothing you could do. I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “We’ll find a way to protect your daughter,” Lachlan said. “No harm will come to her.”

  Ice ran down her spine. “I’ll not risk it. What if you could not reach her in time? Look what they did to me. What they did to Mary. Do you think they will stop at harming another child?” She shook her head resolutely. “Nay, this will be for the best. My daughter has suffered enough. I will not see her harmed for my sake. It’s a convent, not a prison. Perhaps I shall come to find peace with the nuns.”

  They both gaped at her. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet their gazes.

  “Damn it, Bella, you aren’t thinking straight. I swear to you the girl will be taken care of. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I seem to recall you saying something similar to me before.”

  He flinched. She didn’t think him capable of it, but apparently time had given him the vestiges of a conscience. His mouth fell in a tight white line. She could tell by the way his fists clenched and muscles flared that he was holding himself back. Clearly he wanted to say something—yell at her, probably—but he appeared determined to control himself.

  Had the brigand learned some civility? Perhaps he’d changed more than she realized.

  Margaret, who’d been pacing back and forth during the exchange, stopped. “I think I may have a solution.”

  Bella didn’t allow herself to hope. She was cornered, with no way out.

  “I will go in your place.”

  Bella’s gaze shot to her cousin’s. “No! Absolutely not! I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me.”

  Margaret smiled. “It’s no sacrifice. It’s what I have always wished. I was planning to enter the convent with you anyway. I shall simply take your place.”

  “Forever?” Bella asked. “For that is what this will be.”

  Margaret nodded. “I will not change my mind. This is what I want.”

  Bella tried to force her heartbeat to stop racing, telling herself it was impossible. “It won’t work. We can’t risk discovery.”

  “It will work,” Margaret said. “We are of similar height and size.” She looked to Lachlan for support. “And I think not too dissimilar in appearance?”

  He looked back and forth between them as if he’d never considered it. Why did the fact that he’d never noticed the marked likeness between them make her feel worse? If she didn’t compare to her cousin’s ethereal beauty before, she certainly didn’t now.

  Bella hadn’t missed the shock in his eyes when he’d first seen her. If she’d wondered what toll her imprisonment had taken on her, now she knew. She told herself it didn’t matter. Beauty had never been important to her; indeed it had seemed more a curse. But the squeeze in her chest told her she was not without vanity.

  “Nay, not too dissimilar. The countess’s hair is a little lighter, and her eyes are blue whereas yours are green, but with a veil, and to people who do not know you …”

  Margaret clapped her hands. “You see, it can work.”

  Bella gave Lachlan an angry look for encouraging her cousin, for encouraging them both. This was hard enough, and they were only making it har
der.

  But was it possible …?

  “We would have to change our plans a bit,” Lachlan said, considering. “Arrange an accident on the road as opposed to a direct attack. We’ll create a distraction and make the switch in the confusion.” He gazed at Margaret. “You would have to find an excuse not to accompany Bella. But it could be done.”

  Oh, God. She felt the unmistakable rush of hope rising inside her. Could this actually work?

  It could. She didn’t know anyone at the convent. If they could make the switch without the constable’s men knowing …

  Her heart thumped wildly. Even if someone eventually discovered the truth, it would give her time to reach her daughter and get her to safety.

  Joan was so close …

  She tamped down the rising excitement and turned to Margaret to ask her again.

  But Lachlan beat her to it. “Are you sure, lass? Are you certain you want to do this?”

  A soft smile curved her cousin’s mouth. “I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” Margaret clasped Bella’s hands in hers. “Taking the veil is my calling, dear cousin, now you can find yours.”

  Bella didn’t miss the surreptitious glance her cousin stole toward Lachlan. But she was mistaken if she thought Bella harbored any thoughts in that direction.

  She would put her fate in the brigand’s hands one more time to be free, but she would never risk her heart. She’d had enough disappointments for a lifetime.

  Sensing the battle had been won, Lachlan did not give her the chance to argue further. Tossing the hood back over his head, he went to the door and gave it a sound thump.

  “Be ready,” he said.

  The door opened, and a moment later he was gone.

  She stood by the window, her heart thumping erratically for what seemed forever. Finally, she saw the cloaked figure emerge from the tower and cross the courtyard to the gate. Only when he’d safely passed through did she exhale.

  It was the chance to escape that made her worry, not fear for him. Lachlan MacRuairi always managed to land on his feet. Even if those around him did not.

  Ten

  This wasn’t going to work. How were they going to distract the guards long enough to make the switch?

  Bella sat on a bench in the carriage that was transporting her from Berwick Castle to the convent, fighting to keep her seat as the rickety contraption—which had definitely seen better days—bumped along the progressively rougher and more uneven roads.

  A simple construction of a wooden base and arched roof covered with leather, the carriage was open at both ends, providing Bella a view in front of her and behind but not to the side.

  She’d been spared the humiliation of manacles, despite the fact that there was no door to lock. If the threats against her daughter weren’t enough to deter thoughts of escape, the twenty or so armed soldiers accompanying her should suffice.

  As the royal burgh of Berwick-upon-Tweed gave way to countryside, Bella’s tunneled glances outside grew more frequent and the beat of her heart more frantic.

  It was nearly dawn now. The convent couldn’t be much farther. Had something gone wrong? Perhaps they weren’t expecting her to be moved so early? It was still dark when she’d left the castle. Or perhaps her cousin had changed her mind?

  The pit in her stomach grew to despair. She’d been resigned to her fate. Accepted it. Allowing herself to hope—nay, to believe—she would have freedom, only to have it taken away again, was too much to be borne. She should never have listened to him, never should have agreed. But Lachlan had seemed so sure, so certain that this would work. Desperately she’d clung to any thread of hope, no matter how thin.

  Had she learned nothing from their disastrous journey north two years ago? How could she have allowed herself to believe him even for a moment—

  The carriage came to a sudden, jerking halt. Her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench was the only thing that kept her from pitching off her seat.

  Voices rang out. Her heart hammered, knowing this must be it.

  She waited a few moments before scooting to the back opening of the cart. She spoke to the closest man. “Is something wrong? Why did we stop?” She was grateful for the dark veil that hid her face, fearing that he would see her excitement.

  He must have mistaken the breathlessness in her voice for fear. “Overturned cart up ahead,” he replied. “Nothing for you to worry about. We should be on our way in a few minutes.” He gestured with a nod of his steel-helmed head. “Some of the men have gone to help.”

  Bella nodded and tried to act calm. She wished she knew Lachlan’s plan, and whether there was anything she could do to help. From what she could tell, there were at least six of the castle guardsmen still surrounding her carriage.

  Five more minutes passed, though it seemed to her interminably longer as she waited on the edge of her seat for what might happen next.

  She turned at the sound of a voice. From his heavily Scots-accented English, she knew he wasn’t one of the soldiers.

  “You aren’t safe here,” the newcomer said to the soldiers. “Those ropes won’t hold much longer. If those logs break free before we can get the cart upright, they’re liable to roll into your horses and your carriage.”

  Bella stuck her head out the opening. “What seems to be the problem?”

  The man, who from his rough clothing and large, muscular frame appeared to be a laborer, acted surprised to see a woman. He bowed deferentially, his manner instantly more anxious. “I’m sorry to disturb you, m’lady. There’s been an accident. The cart carrying our load of logs overturned on the hill above. You should get out of the carriage while your men move it out of the path of the logs.”

  “The lady is fine where she is,” one of Sir John’s soldiers said. “Turn the carriage around,” he shouted to the driver.

  The carriage moved forward a few feet, rocking slightly as the driver attempted to turn the horses. Then it came to another sudden stop. “Not enough room,” the driver said. “The road is too narrow right here. If one of the wheels gets stuck in the muddy ditch to either side there will be no moving her. I need to back up—”

  A loud shout of warning came from the road ahead of them.

  “Watch out!” the newcomer shouted to the frozen soldiers, meeting her gaze with a knowing look. “Out of the way. The ropes have snapped.”

  Bella didn’t wait to see whether one of the soldiers came for her. She jumped out the back opening of the carriage and ran toward the stranger, who she knew must be one of Lachlan’s men.

  She heard a cacophony of sound. The crash of wood and rock as the logs barreled toward them. The terrified neighs and whinnies of the horses. The shouts of soldiers.

  In the chaos, Lachlan’s man pulled her to safety behind a tree. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than she was spun around and handed to another man.

  This one she recognized. She didn’t need to look at his face. It horrified her to realize that she knew him by touch alone. By the way the air shifted, her stomach fluttered, and every nerve ending stood on end.

  God help her for a fool.

  Suddenly, her cousin appeared next to her, slipping into the place Bella had just vacated by the tree. Their eyes met from behind the mirroring black veils.

  “Take care, cousin,” Margaret said softly.

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you,” Bella whispered, but Lachlan was already dragging her away.

  They traveled a few dozen feet before he pulled her into a dense patch of shrubbery.

  He held her pinned to his side, tucked under the protective shield of his chest and arms. She couldn’t help herself from leaning into him, savoring—absorbing—his warmth and strength. It had been so long since she’d felt safe. And tucked up against him, his big arm wrapped tightly around her, it was so easy to allow herself a moment of weakness, so easy to forget all that had happened, so easy to believe that she could rely on him. She felt safe and protected for the first time si
nce—

  Since the last time he’d held her.

  She’d forgotten how strong he was. Forgotten how it felt to have layer upon layer of steel-hard muscle pressed against her. Her heart did a funny little stutter as feminine awareness, long dormant, flared to life. It poured through her veins in a hot molten rush that no force of will could deny. Her breath fell in uneven gasps that she hoped he mistook for exertion.

  Her body’s betrayal bothered her. With all that had passed between them, she shouldn’t be feeling like this. She didn’t want to feel anything for him. The death of her husband hadn’t changed anything. Lachlan MacRuairi was as wrong for her today as he had been two years ago.

  But she couldn’t force herself to pull away.

  “Let’s see if it worked,” he said softly in her ear.

  Bella ignored the shiver that ran down her spine and tried to focus on what was happening ahead of them.

  The soldiers had recovered quickly. They surrounded Lachlan’s man and immediately relieved him of Margaret. There seemed to be a tense moment of discussion before Margaret said something to one of the soldiers. A moment later, the big man walked away.

  Freed of its heavy load, the overturned cart was righted. The logs that had crashed down the hill on a perilous collision course with their party were cleared from the road. Margaret was loaded back into the carriage, which fortunately along with the horses had escaped the onslaught of logs, and not twenty minutes later the party was once again on its way to the convent.

  Bella waited for them to pass out of sight before she spoke. “Do you think she’ll be all right?”

  Lachlan pulled her to her feet, and then turned her to face him. “I think she’ll be more than all right, I think she’ll be happy. It was your cousin’s wish to do this, Bella. You’ve nothing to feel guilty about.” She didn’t like how easily he’d read her thoughts. He didn’t know her. The connection between them—had it ever existed—had been severed long ago. “You can’t be completely surprised by her decision?”